Filthy Frank: The Slavic Saga
by Botchman
Summary: Idubbbz and Safari Man plan a trip to Chernobyl, but they get more than they bargained for. There is a new enemy force rising in the Omniverse, and they drink a hell of a lot of vodka. Can Frank and the gang defeat them in time?
1. Loomings

Filthy FrankTV, The Slavic Saga.

Chapter 1: Loomings

( _For those interested, this Saga is set fairly early in the Filthy Frank lore. Somewhere just after the first group Chin Chin sacrifice in 2013, but before Dade's death._ )

Realm: 16.9, Chernobyl Wastes.

200,000 CH.

The sun shone down onto the barren earth, vastly obscured by a haze of grey clouds and background radiation. Chernobyl stood desolate before all that might observe it. This was the epitome of a wasteland. Skeletal trees protruded from the dirt like the fingers of corpses, the blackened husks of rural dwellings were dotted sporadically around the landscape, and far in the distance, beyond a causeway of shit-brown mud, lay the irradiated city, itself partially hidden by a forest of slim green vegetation. Nothing stirred. The wind blew across the vast, un-interrupted landscape between ticks of the Geiger counter, and for miles in every direction, skeletons and automobiles sat rotting in their final resting places.

Truly, there were few places in the Omni-verse that proved as dull as the Chernobyl Wastes. There were multiple versions of the Chernobyl Wastes, of course, all occupying their respective dimensions on the cosmic map. The Chernobyl nuclear disaster was a Universal constant because Ukrainians were, as a species, too stupid to keep a nuclear reactor stable for very long. Their innate drunkenness and overall lethargic attitude towards maintaining a demanding source of renewable energy inevitably ended in cataclysm. All that was left now was an embarrassing skid-mark on the underside of the Omni-verse's pant cloth, without anything of value to offer visitors.

Indeed, any travellers purposely arriving in The Wastes, would have to be mentally retarded to some greater or lesser degree, and so it was no surprise that Safari Man and Ian IDubbbz had chosen it as their holiday destination.

Several miles outside of the city centre an oaken cabinate, which was hidden in a collapsed stone hovel, suddenly began to vibrate. Then, quite abruptly, it's doors swung open, and Safari Man jumped out onto the cobbled stones, dragging a deck chair behind him.

He beamed at the surrounding shitty landscape and began slapping sunscreen onto his pasty chink skin.

"Uwa ̄ ! Kore wa subarashī! ( _Wow! This is wonderful!_ )" He yelled in his obnoxious tourist voice, making sure to rub the sunblock deep into his sweaty folds, despite that fact he was still wearing his characteristic red Hawaiian shirt.

There was a low moaning sound from the cabinate, and the emaciated figure of Ian emerged from the dimensional gateway and rolled onto the ground. After catching his breath, he jumped up, cleaned his glasses and squinted around him.

"Hey, this is pretty shit!" He said, casually kicking a skull that was lying outside the ruined house.

"You know, I might not understand you Safari Guy, but this place you picked is pretty cancerous! Maybe we can have some fun here, after all."Safari man cackled with laughter and pointed towards the horizon; Ian saw the tall concrete high-rises in the distance.

"Anata wa sore o itta, hoteru ni ikimashou. Kochiradesu! ( _You said it, let's go to the Hotel. This way._ )" Said Safari Man, and he started walking through the sparse trees with the deck chair clattering behind him.

Ian trod after him, adjusting his backpack for a more comfortable fit. He was glad that he'd taken this opportunity to get away from Realm 6.2 for a while. Dimensional travel was something that he had surprisingly little experience in and, rather than take a visit to Nigeria, or the Yulin Dog Festival like he usually did, Ian had decided to lose his dimensional virginity by plunging into another realm entirely. Of course, the holiday wasn't Ian's only reason for journeying across dimensions. For a long time now, the Gay Retard had had a massive man crush on Safari Man, and he was excited to be alone with him at long last. Surely now, he would be able to confess his feelings for the shambling retarded tourist and have his love be accepted. Here, under the stars and radioactive haze, they could finally gaze into each other's eyes and realise what it meant to connect with another sub-human troglodyte. They would be able to hold hands, whisper sweet nothings to one another, and take turns mashing each other's buttholes with their throbbing purple cocks. At least, that was Ian's hope.

Safari Man found the main road and climbed up a high dirt bank to reach it. Ian struggled, but the lean tourist grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the cracked asphalt. For the briefest of moments, they touched skin, and Ian's slim body was electrified. He smiled and looked away.

"Thanks big man, what's next?" Safari man just threw his head back and laughed.

"Haha! Kono yō ni, ian. Haha, anata wa kūki-chū no kinzoku o ajiwaimasu ka? Sore wa hijō ni ukketsudesu ( _Haha!_ _This way, Ian. Haha, do you taste metal in the air? It is very nauseating.)_

Together they walked the long road to Chernobyl, little dreaming that they were being watched.

Blyat / Lazlo

Realm: 16.9 (Chernobyl Wastes) / Realm: 16.9 (Chernobyl Wastes)

Special Attack: Vodka Belch. / Special Attack: Squat Suplex.

Two gopnik Slavs stared at the intruding couple from behind a dilapidated van and contemplated on what to do next. They were dressed in dark blue Adidas tracksuits, with white scuffed sneakers and gas masks stretched over their bald heads. They spoke to each other in muffled, bastardized Russian and began shuffling out of cover, their glassy circular eyes gleaming in the dull Ukrainian sunlight.

It was time to dispense with these flagrantly homoerotic intruders.


	2. Assault

Chapter 2: Assault

Nearer and nearer, the slavs moved towards their un-suspecting prey, taking great care to stay out of sight. They hunched close to the ground, knuckling their way forward in an effort to reduce noise. Slowly but surely, they began to close in. After a couple of minutes the gopniks were only a few yards behind Ian and Safari Man; they were now close enough to hear the intruders talking.

"-all I'm saying," said Ian, absorbed in his own rhetoric.

"All I'm saying is that when you reach the age of sixty, sixty-five tops, you should be killed. No question. Unless you're an immortal Lycra guy, or whatever, when you get to that age, there's nothing more you can do for society. Old people are parasites, and if they had any self-respect at all they would give themselves a shotgun-blowjob. End of discussion."

Safari Man slapped his knee and laughed heartily, seemingly agreeing with his companion's ultra-fascist viewpoint.

"Ha! Amarini mo furu sugimasu. Sore wa koko de jūyōde wanai. ( _Ha! Too old is too old. Not that it matters out here._ )

Meanwhile, the masked Slavs drew identical knives out from their tracksuits. They would pounce any moment now and slit the necks of their victims, before proceeding to make sweet love to holes that they had created. Not all Slavs were this depraved, it was true, but years of scouting in the Chernobyl Wastes tended to warp the sexual desires of all that trod across the plains. The radiation, no doubt played a part in this degeneracy. The moment had almost come. The slavs arched their bodies, ready to attack.

And then, suddenly, Safari Man let out a cry of surprise. His Safari Sense had kicked in. It was one of the few powers he possessed and it allowed him to perceive the relative proximity of indigenous life forms native to other realms. He had been too absorbed by his pleasant company to register it right away, but now their present danger hit him like flash bang. Despite his heavy dialect, the tourist knew just enough broken English to warn his companion, and he put it into effect.

"Ian! Behindaa-ruu!" Safari Man yelled. Ian didn't have to be told twice. He sprinted forwards, letting the Slavs spring and fall short of their targets. Then, while turning around, Ian reached up to his backpack and grabbed the wooden stock that was poking out of the top. When his arm came back down, he was levelling a sawn-off double-barrelled shotgun at the two slavs. The gopniks recoiled in fear, and Ian grinned a manic smile.

"Wal, wal. Wout do we alve, ere?" He said in his Gay Retard accent.

"Wout are you bose dowing? It's nawt Halloweem! Pout the knauves down, you oogly coonts!"

The Slavs did as they were told and chucked their weapons onto the roadway. Safari man picked them up and watched as the gopniks meekly held their hands above their heads. Ian kept the gun trained on them, ready to blast the would-be attackers if they showed any signs of double-cross.

Safari Man was breathing heavily. He grabbed Ian's shoulders and babbled some oriental gibberish, clearly shaken by what had just transpired.

"Stay back, Safari Man." Said Ian, suddenly serious.

"I won't let them hurt you. God, these guys almost killed us both. "

"Sōdesu. Ian, arigatō. Anata wa hontōni yūkan'na otokodesu. ( _Too right. Thank you Ian. You are a brave man, indeed._ )"

"Look, there could be more of these things. What's say we cancel our vacation for now?"

"Sore wa kenmeida. Watashi wa kono ryōiki ga sorada to omotta ( _That seems wise. I thought this realm was empty._ )

Ian started to walk around the gopniks, back towards the way they had come, but then he stopped short. A childish scowl spread across his pale geeky face and, for all intents and purposes, he had gained the cruelty and entitlement of a fan-edit school shooter.

"Wait. You know what? No! These guys need to pay. Hey! You can understand me, right?!"

The two slavs nodded their masks up and down in agreement.

"I want reparations! Give me the sneakers!"

The gopniks looked at each other. Ian cocked the shotgun.

"Give me the sneakers! I won't ask again."

Reluctantly, the slavs unlaced their shoes and kicked them over to Ian, revealing their disgusting, mutated feet. They had seven toes on each foot, some of them fused together at the bone, some of them little more than shrived black cheese-puffs.

Safari Man vomited onto the road and Ian picked up the shoes and stuffed them into his pack.

"You see! You shouldn't have messed with a Nigger Faggot, should you. Oh, and just so you know, I'm going to burn your shoes later. Yeah, have myself a little brand-awareness bonfire. Have fun walking back to the city, cunts."

Ian and Safari Man started to walk away, occasionally throwing a glance over their shoulders to make sure they weren't being followed. After a while, Ian turned to his companion.

"Got a bit carried away, didn't I? Sorry, Safari Guy. But what with the thought of you lying dead in the road, I guess I just saw red."

Safari Man took hold of Ian's hand and laughed. Ian loved Safari Man's laugh. He loved how it could nullify his anger and transmute it into golden love.

"Uwa ̄ ! Anata wa senshidesu, ian. Anata wa watashi no tame ni tatakau koto de watashi o meiyo o ataemasu. ( _Wow! You are a warrior, Ian. You do me honour by fighting for me._ )

Ian couldn't understand what the tourist was saying, but he smiled anyway. Just hearing the acceptance in his voice was enough for him.

"Let's go some other place for our holiday, pal. I think we deserve it."

They had made it half way back to the portal when the pair heard a roaring noise coming from the distance, far off at first, but growing steadily louder with every passing second.

"The hell is that?!" Exclaimed Ian, looking wildly around him. Safari Man mirrored Ian's surprise and together they started walking a little faster.

Then a pair of rusty vehicles came accelerating over a dirt mound and plunged down into the valley. They were soviet-era jeeps and each held a complement of five Slavic hunters, all sporting Adidas tracksuits and black rubber gas masks. Some of them chugged Vodka from clear glass bottles, some of them readied huge nets braided from human hair, and all of them whooped and cried with the thrill of the hunt. It was like some strange scene out of budget Mad Max movie.

"Book it!" Ian yelled, but it was too late. The jeeps caught up with them in seconds. The nets fell and the pair were forced to the ground, entangled in a course, matted heap.

The jeeps passed them, and circled around. Ian desperately tried to stand up but the ropes were too heavy.

"Surabu wa watashitachi o motte iru! ( _The slavs have got us!_ ) Said Safari Man, who was beginning to panic.

"It's okay," Said Ian, formulating a plan.

"I'll bite through the ropes. That'll get us free. One second, I *urrgh* *Urgh!* Actually, no. That tastes pretty rank. I'm not going to do that."

The gopniks laughed and began to drive back towards Ian and Safari Man. Two Slavs from each jeep grabbed hold of the nets as they passed, dragging the two unfortunate men behind the vehicles. Ian and Safari Man bounced and rolled in the confines of their netted prison, desperately trying to avoid friction burns from the rushing ground beneath them. Having lost his shotgun in the confusion, Ian glowered at his slav captors.

"You're going to pay for this, we know people. Powerful people. Y'all fuckers need Chin Chin!"

Safari Man, however focused his energy on sending a psychic SOS message to Frank and the gang. He scrunched up his coin-slot eyes, visualized the message's destination, and projected his panicked cry.

"HALP! FRANKU! CUM-MU FAST! SLAV-OO MEN TAKE US! HALP!"

The psychic message invisibly launched itself from the tourist's skull and diffused through the Omni-verse. It sped through the cosmos at the speed of light, and then it turned and headed directly for realm 6.2, the current residence of Filthy Frank.

Whether Frank had the power to save his friends, however, was another question entirely.


	3. Message Received

Chapter 3: Message Received

Realm: Earth 6.2 (Neo-Tokyo 1988)

Present Day. (CH)

It was noon in Frank's apartment. Rays of sunshine slanted in through the window, illuminating the semen-stained room with brilliant streaks of golden light. Salamander Man sat on the floor playing with a pre-schoolers xylophone.

"Nyesss!" He bellowed, taking turns to slam the multi-coloured keys with his feet and elbows.

'Plink, plink, plink, plink. Plink, plink.'

The discordant jingling created an ambience typically associated with a special classroom, and it wasn't long before Salamander Man had roused his housemates with his borderline autistic cacophony.

"Salamander Man! Salamander Man! Shut the fuck up!"

Frank's ruddy red face appeared at the bedroom door, his hands pressed tightly over his ears.

"I was draining a keg last night, you asshole! I've got a hangover that could kill a whale!"

"Nyesss!"

Salamander Man detached a bright red key from the xylophone and rubbed it provocatively around his nipple. He flicked his tongue back and forth, and then went back to mashing the xylophone.

"Nyesss!"

'Plink, plink, plink, !'

Frank marched over to Salamander Man and yanked the toy out of his hands.

"NYESSS! NYESSS!" He cried desperately, trying to grab it back, but Frank walked over to the open window and chucked the instrument out. The xylophone spiralled through the air, turning end over end majestically, before it landed on a dog that was passing underneath, killing it instantly. Frank dusted off his hands.

"There! When I tell you to shut up. You shut up. We're already getting noise complaints you stupid lizard! Have some fucking consideration!"

"NYESSS! Nyesss!" Salamander Man screwed up his face and slammed his head against the floor. He screamed and cried but, in truth, Salamander Man was too dense to stay sad for long. Soon enough he was crawling into the closet, intent on eating the pile of dead flies that had amassed there.

Now that he was awake, Frank walked over to the kitchenette, ready for some breakfast, but he stepped on something wet and squishy before he could reach the fridge.

"Oh for God's sake!" He grated, reaching down and picking up a dripping wet sock between his forefinger and thumb.

"Pink Guy! Pink Guy! Where are you, ya dirty bastard!?"

The fridge door opened, revealing Pink Guy's hunched lycra body sucking down on a bottle of soy sauce."

"Hey B0ss!"

"Pink Guy, you have to keep your cum sock out of sight. Nobody want's to see that shit. It's fucking disgusting!" Pink Guy shook his head.

"Please, gibe de Pusi b0ss! ( _Nah, Frank. That's your jizz, man._ )

"Don't even start! I know it's yours cos the semen is fucking pink! It's like someone filled this thing with Nickelodeon Gak! You can't pin this on me!"

"Hey b0ss, can I habe pusi? ( _Nah man, you racist._ )"

Frank laughed and took a half empty carton of orange juice out of the fridge door.

"I'm a minority you stupid faggot, I can't be racist. Whatever, just don't leave your shit on the floor."

He chucked the sock into the vegetable rack and shut the door, licking the sticky pink residue off his fingers as he did so. Protein was protein, after all. He didn't care where his sustenance came from. Frank chugged the orange juice and discarded the carton.

"Christ! Just another day at retard HQ, isn't it. I expected nothing and I'm still disappointed. All right! Everyone up! Get up! EVERYONE GET IN HERE!"

At first, nothing happened. Then the apartment came alive with retarded, shambling movement. Lemon rolled out of the cupboard under the sink, still chewing on a dishcloth, and let out a shriek.

Salamander Man jumped into the centre of the room and rolled into a sitting position.

Pink Guy stepped out of the fridge, sniffed the air, and crawled over to where Frank was now standing.

"Okay! Listen up! We're going to have breakfast together like a goddamn household for once. I'm tired of you crawling off to your own little nooks and doing God-knows-what to yourselves."

The three Lycra men moaned and shook their heads. Frank stood resolute.

"I mean it! It's fucking embarrassing that you can't act halfway normal. We're going to sit down at the table, and have some chromosomes, come on. If you're good, I'll play some Seinfeld on the laptop."

Frank's entourage reluctantly shambled over to the table and clambered onto the chairs like handicapped children. Frank turned his attention to the stove, and was wondering how much blood-vomit he'd have to use to give his friends the daily-recommended amount of chromosomes, when his train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a psychic signal. Francis of the filth froze. His mind echoed with the panicked wailings of Safari Man, and he had to grab hold of the wall to stop him falling over.

"HALP! FRANKU! CUM-MU FAST! SLAV-OO MEN TAKE US! HALP!"

"Safari Man? What is this, what's wrong?"

"SLAV-OO MEN TAKE US! HALP, FRANK…. … WOW!"

Finally the message dissipated, and Frank turned around to his lycra friends.

"Holy shit on a cracker! Safari Mans been kidnapped! And Ian too… I guess. Fuck."

Lemon, Salamander Man and Pink Guy all looked at one another with pained, worried expressions.

"Uwaa!"

"Nyesss!"

"B0ss?!"

Then they all turned to the ceiling and let out a collective, screeching howl. One of their kin had been taken away, and the anguish that came forth was a palpable, living thing. Frank anxiously paced to and fro, trying to get his head together.

"Jesus, I suppose Chernobyl wasn't the fun radiation playground we all thought it was. Look, there's no time! We've got to go rescue them!"

There was a murmuring from around the table, and the lycra men started to slouch low in their chairs. Frank scoffed at them.

"What you're afraid? I knew it! You're all just pussies! What, you're afraid of a few Russian mutants? You're part of my clan, you're blessed by Chin Chin. You've got no fucking excuse."

Francis of the Filth rushed over to his bed and began pulling a large metal case out from underneath it.

"But we can't go alone…" Said Frank, cheesily looking into the camera lens for dramatic effect.

"We're going to need some help."


	4. Dimitri Is Unbreakable

Chapter 4: Dimitri Is Unbreakable.

When Ian and Safari Man finally arrived inside the irradiated city, they were far too disorientated to fight their captors. Having been dragged for the better part of six miles across the rough Chernobyl outskirts, they were barely able to crawl, let alone start swinging punches.

The jeeps came to a stop and the slavs jumped out. They plunged their rough, Eastern European hands into the net and bound the hostages' hands behind their backs. Safari Man screamed in terror as he watched the ten gas-masked faces loom over him and tie his wrists together with cable-ties.

"Wow! Watashi o ochikoma senaide! Hanarete, gomu no hentai! ( _Wow! Do not deflower me! Get away, rubber perverts!_ )"

Ian, however, tried to keep his cool.

"You fellas into some kinky shit, huh? That's cool, I don't judge. Hey, HEY! Don't scratch me, cunt!"

The nets were untangled and thrown back into the jeeps, then Ian and Safari Man were hoisted to their feet and made to walk futher into the concrete fortress.

Now that they were free, they were better able to see their surroundings. This was the entrance of Chernobyl. Concrete housing estates towered over everything, dwarfing even the rusty Ferris wheel that stood creaking in the centre of the square. The flat expanse of brick pavement had cracked and fractured from years of overgrowth, and scattered around the whole area there lay the blistering bones of humans and small animals, historic victims of the nuclear melt-down.

On any other day, the landscape could have been considered scenic, or perhaps even vaporwave, but Ian and Safari Man could only focus on their immediate danger. The gopniks laughed muffled laughs underneath their masks, and escorted the prisoners futher into the city.

They walked between two concrete high-rises, the close proximity of which formed a claustrophobically, narrow street. On either side, Ian and Safari Man could see movement coming from the higher levels. Dozens of slavs appeared at the balconies, some wearing rubber gas masks, others with bare, rough looking faces, but all of them clad in at least some Adidas sports clothing. They looked down with frenzied expressions, and began beating the metal railings with baseball bats. A symphony of clanging echoed through the air, turning the quiet burg into a prison yard.

"This place isn't abandoned…" Said Ian, with all the conviction of an actor in a bad student film.

"This is Slav central!"

The spectators shouted and jeered at the prisoners below, pelting them with rotten root vegetables and empty lager cans. Insults were heaped down upon their heads, mostly in bastard Ukrainian but some in fragmented English as well.

"Western spies, you a die today!"

"Dimitri is gonna destroy you boys! He gonna drain your fucking chromosomes, he's a gonna-"

"You are dead men walking, outsiders!"

All this proved too much for Safari Man. Tears were falling from the tourist's slanted eyes. He turned to Ian to express his deepest fears.

"Uwa ̄ ! Karera wa watashitachi o korosudeshou! Watashi wa shinitakunai, Ian! ( _Wow! They'll kill us! I don't want to die, Ian!_ )"

Ian tried to comfort his love interest despite the torrent of Gopnik refuse they were being showered with.

"Stay calm Safari Guy, we'll get out of this. Don't give them the satisfaction."

Soon, Ian and Safari Man were led out the other side and into another concrete courtyard. There were hardly any slavs here, except for a small gang that was squatting in an overgrown play park smoking blunts. This however, was not their destination. The masked gopniks marched Ian and Safari Man to an enormous gaping slope that led down into the ground. It was the entrance to a subterranean car park. The rectangular cavern loomed as black as the void. Not a speck of light could be seen inside.

One of the Slavs poked Ian in the ribs.

"Otrymaty v. Demitri povynen bachyty vas!" He mumbled.

"No. Sorry, Roman, I don't want to go bowling. Let's just go down

the spooky hole instead, is that okay with you?"

The Gopniks took Ian and Safari Man by the shoulders and walked down into the bowels of the car park. The pair were plunged into pitch blackness, but it was apparent that their captives could see in the dark because their footsteps never faltered for an instant.

After what seemed like half an hour, the prisoners found themselves in the parking lot's basement level. They had been moving progressively futher and futher down this whole time, and were now faced with a makeshift throne room, angled against the far-most wall. Thankfully, this area was fully illuminated by industrial floodlights, allowing Ian and Safari Man to get their bearings.

The concrete floor was adorned with a collage of old mattresses, tessellated together to form an un-interrupted layer of carpet.

To the sides, there lay the greatest conveniences of modern Slavic life; a minimalistic workout area composed of nothing more than a suspended metal bar and some concrete dumbbells, and a rack of gold-plated Kalashnikov assault rifles. There was a state of the art, VCR complete with cathode-ray television, both of which were mounted on a collapsible aluminium trolley, and lastly, a food cart filled with Ukrainian delicacies (cigars, lashings of vodka, pickled gherkins, baloney, sliced bread, and live mackerel swimming around in a grubby fish tank.)

And high above everything, there sat a man of godly proportions on the biggest armchair that Ian and Safari Man had ever seen. He was wearing white Adiddas trainers, white Adiddas jogging bottoms and a white Adiddas jacket over of a string-net vest (also possibly Addidas.) He wore a wealth of gold chains around his broad neck, and a king's ransom of golden rings on each hand. His short, jet-black hair was slicked back with axel grease, which served to complement his strong facial features and labourers' jawline.

The leader of the gopniks sat puffing on a cigarette and draining a two-litre bottle of vodka like a thirsty Chilean miner.

Dimitri Vladislov (Gopnik Emperor)  
Realm: 16.9 (Chernobyl Wastes)  
Level: 10,000. Ultra-Slav.  
The Final Boss or some shit.

One of the masked slavs approached him. The rest all squatted down, making themselves comfortable. It was clear that the prisoners couldn't run away.

"Dymytriy, u nas ye zakhoplennya aut·sayderom shpyhuniv, my dumayemo, shcho vony - ( _Dimitri, we have captured outsider spies, we think they-_ )"

But Dimitri held up a finger and silenced his subordinate. Without straining, he tilted the bottle skyward and swallowed what was left of the vodka in two easy swigs.

When he spoke, it was in clear English albeit with a heavy Russian accent.

"Why do you disturb me, comrades? Who are these trespassers you bring before me?"

Safari Man had regained some of his courage by this time and tried to introduce himself.

"Ora manko ga daisuki nanda, hahahaha! Pushi- wa doko da!? ( _Greetings, we are simple travellers of the Omni-verse. You have imprisoned us wrongly, Sir. Please let us go._ )"

With surprising quickness, Dimitri leaped off his chair and grabbed Safari Man by the face. His fingers squashed the tourist's features, causing him to yell out in pain.

"Uwa!, Wow! ( _Please, unhand me!_ )

"She is so sexy. Teasing little cyka blyat. You do well to bring her to me."

"What are you, fucking gay?" Said Ian, fully aware of the hypocrisy of his retort. The masked Gopniks turned suspiciously toward their leader.

Dimitri scoffed.

"No way, I'm not fucking gay, Chavak. This chink is a trap. Traps aren't gay."

The gopniks turned towards Ian.

"He's clearly not a trap. Are you fucking blind?! He's a sweaty old man. He's, like, a million chromosomes old."

The gopniks turned towards Dimitri.

"He'll be a woman after I am done with him. Yes, see! She knows what I mean." Dimitri stroked Safari Man's pasty face with the back of his hand, causing him to weep profusely. Ian wasn't convinced.

"Can you hear yourself? You're gay, Dimitri. You are a gay man."

"Nah, chavak. You wrong, fam. You wrong. When you are in Gulag, one hole is as good as another, you will see."

The gopniks nodded their masked heads. Dimitri, it seemed, was on point.

"Yeah. Yeah we will see, cos we don't appreciated being manhandled all the way here. I know Chin Chin personally. And when he finds out about this, he's going to destroy you and the whole ghetto you live in. You're gonna be sorry."

"Chin Chin?" Dimitri said, astonished. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. His deep cries echoed and rebounded off the walls of the grim car park.

"You think I am afraid of Chin Chin? He is lyrca pansy! He gets off on seeing dead weeaboos. I am not scared of that freak. Let him find me, I shall put him in his grave."

Ian gulped. He had hoped that the mention of Chin Chin's name might scare the Slav into letting them free but this had not been the case. Any moment now, Dimitri could order an execution, and there would be nothing Ian could do to stop it. He had to do something, and fast.

"Yeah well…" Ian hesitated, and then he thought of an idea.

"Well I challenge you to fight, you gay-ass looking faggot. Look at you, I bet that shit you're wearing isn't even real Adidas. That's some cheap knock-off brand, isn't it. 'Cunt-idas' specialy designed for cunts like you. Probably can't even squat properly. You probably squat with your heels off the floor. Yeah, I can tell. You know, you really disgust me."

Dimitri knew that he was being played, but he was red with rage all the same.

"You trespass in our Realm, you insult my exquisite attire, and you dare to call traps gay! Yes, outsider. You shall get your fight. We shall settle this like men, but don't think for a second that it will go your way."

Dimitri put his hands on Ian's shoulders. His breath stank of vodka and salt.

"I shall humiliate you before I kill you, chavak. The Omniverse must not know of our presence here, until we are ready to conquer it. I cannot afford for you to leave."

Ian Idubbbz Carter locked eyes with the muscular gopnik.

"Bring it. I'm going to clean your clock, muchacho."

Ian knew he was a relatively weak fighter, but he was playing for time. Hopefully Frank would be able to send a rescue party soon. If not, then he might start regretting some of his trash talk.


	5. Help from Chin Chin?

Chapter 5: Help from Chin Chin?

Realm 6: Dimension, Pakistan. (Islamabad)

Present Day (CH)

With painful slowness and un-feigned disgust Filthy Frank and Pink Guy made their way through a gridlock of third-world cars and down a bustling Pakistani sidewalk. The noise was deafening. From the moment they arrived they had been overwhelmed by traffic and a sea of grimy brown faces. The city was choked with hundreds and hundreds of men and women wearing colourful robes ands shirts. A dense mist had descended from the nearby mountaintops and, as a result, Islamabad was blanketed in a thick, white layer of gaseous cum.

"Un-fucking-believable" Grated Frank, elbowing his way through the crowd, taking care not to loose his metal suitcase. Pink Guy shambled close behind him, shouldering a massive canvas rucksack.

"You'd think they'd have a little more consideration for someone that's half-white by birth. Not that I really expected any better. Christ, this place is revolting."

"Hey b0ss, can I habe pussi? ( _Yeah, for real though_ )." Pink Guy pulled a face like he had just nutted.

"Can't wait to get out of here. It smells fucking terrible, I don't care if the travel fare was cheap."

That was very true. They hadn't needed to spend many chromosomes to get here. The Pakistani dimension was only a couple of worlds away from Realm 6.2, meaning that Frank and Pink Guy could transport themselves to Chin Chin's favourite Realm without having to break the gene bank. Not that they had any reason to before. It was universally acknowledged that Pakistan was a toilet, although not nearly as bad as Jacksonville Florida, which was itself a hell on earth.

Indeed, Frank had spent the entire afternoon rounding up some offerings for Chin Chin and hoped that by visiting the Dark Lord instead of summoning him, he would be more inclined to grant them their request; Going to Chernobyl 16.9 and rescuing Ian and Safari Man from the Slavs that apparently resided there.

After much walking, (and subsequent spitting at beggars that hassled them each step of the way) Frank and Pink Guy came to one of the residential sectors and turned left into a kind of housing suburb. 'Suburb' was putting it generously, however. This place was a slum.

Streams of sewage water ran down the alleyway, exposed to the open air, and up and down the dirty pathway half-naked children ran playing with nothing but a few sticks and their imaginations. The buildings here were solid at least, or at least as solid as they could be in Pakistan. They were mostly white and beige with high, rough walls made out of crude bricks and sheet metal. Poverty was rife in this part of town; the pair pressed-on, undeterred.

"Course, you'd never want to get with a Pakistani chick. " Rasped Frank as he stepped over a body strewn with flies.

"The pussy here tastes wrong here, y'know? All wrong. It's like someone mixed halal meat with oil. And that shit's in the air too, so everything just gets contaminated."

"Can I habe the pussi, pls? ( _Nah, pussy is pussy. I'd still try that._ )."

"You're kidding me. You think you want to, but you don't. Trust me. If you're willing to get stomach flu on some weekend bender, then be my guest. One thing I will tell you, vomit does not make good lube, my friend. Okay. If that shit gets under your foreskin, it will burn for hours."

Pink Guy was about to ask which house Chin Chin was staying in, but then the answer made itself obvious. They approached the largest hovel in the area, which was decorated with dark black paint and crude drawings of eyes that were scrawled on paper and stapled onto the walls. As Frank and Pink Guy walked up to the front door they thought they could hear the sound of crying coming from inside.

Frank gulped nervously and adjusted his shirt collar.

"Remember, Pink Guy. Ian and Safari Man are counting on us. We can't do anything that will piss off Chin Chin. We need his power to save them."

"Pussi, pls? B0ss, can I habe pussi?( _But Frank, your face pisses him off._ )

"Don't be talking shit, man. I'm doing my best, what are you doing? You looking at me with your gay-looking ass. People say we look alike, y'know. So when you roasting me, you're actually roasting yourself."

"B0ss hey, b0ss, pussi, pls? (Don't hate, man. Why you be so gay man? Why you have to be a poop-head?!)

"Look, I am under a lot of stress. I have to baby-sit you faggots all day and now two of you have gotten yourselves kidnapped. Do you realise how much pressure I am under? I am loosing my shit. There is no telling what I might do, bro. Do not make me your enemy."

Pink Guy chuckled moronically, and flipped Frank the bird.

"Haha, hey, fuk U man."

Frank screwed up his face.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do not test me, Pink Guy. You don't want to know what I'll do."

(* _Camera cut_ *)

"I will pick you up, and I will smash you against the pavement. The street-sweeper will never get rid of the stain."

(* _Camera cut_ *)

"I will give you a coat-hanger abortion, except instead of ripping out a mangled foetus, I'll be killing a set of twins; your little pink kidneys. "

(* _Camera cut_ *)

"I will get Donald J. Trump to build you into The Wall, just like the thousands of Mexican workers inside it already."

(* _Camera cut_ *)

"I will take your balls. One at a time. And I will chew them up, until they're bubble gum. And as I'm doing that, I will grab your dick with my hand, and jerk you. When you cum blood that will be the signal for me to spit out what's left of your balls and put them on a plate. Then, I will feed that mess to a staving Nigerian child. And when he is finished and asks me to go home, then I will feed _him_ to you. See that's how you solve the Africa crisis, you gotta eat smarter, not harder-*-*-"

(* _Joji breaks character and starts chuckling manically. He says "I'm going to hell" before the camera haphazardly pans to the left. The screen quickly cuts to the next frame. *_ )

watch?v=RbMn6qsT3bc

( 'Hunger' Chin Chin's theme. By Hans Zimmer.)

Frank took a deep breath and knocked on the plywood door.

'Rap, rap, rap.'

They waited five seconds. Silence.

Then, far off in the house, there came a distorted, fanatical cry.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin ga daisuke nandago!"

The door suddenly burst open and something bolted past Frank and Pink Guy. They turned to see several naked Pakistani men sprinting down the alleyway, their wrists tied together, and their mouths sealed shut with duct tape. It was clear that they had been the Dark Lord's 'guests' until very recently.

There was movement from within the dim recesses of the dwelling. A plume of stage-smoke blew out and Chin Chin, the Dark Lord, came crawling towards the door on his feet and hands. He vaguely resembled an enormous, terrible spider, on the hunt for wayward insects. The only difference was that Chin Chin's prey included everything in the food chain. Pink Guy could sense the tremendous power in his black, lycra body and hopped backward, deeply frightened by the Dark Lord's presence. Chin Chin approached menacingly.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin ga daisuke nandago!" ( _My little pets have escaped! Come back! I am not done with you yet!_ )

He stopped before Frank and began sniffing the air, his false eyes glaring at them both.

"Ochinchin! Ochinchin ga daisuke!" ( _Oh, hey! What do you shit-heads want?_ )

Frank gulped and knelt on the step before his master.

"My Lord, we have come with grave news." Said Frank. Pink Guy nodded with a worried expression on his face.

"Several hours ago, two of our clan members were taken during a vacation to Chernobyl 16.9. They were abducted by a fierce warrior race know as the Slavs. We need you to rescue your followers, my Lord. Only you can prevail against so many adversaries, please, we beg of you."

Chin Chin considered this. He mumbled some strange, pseudo-Japanese and crawled around the porch like a demented tarantula. Finally he turned to Frank.

"Ore wa! Ga daisuke nandago!" ( _This totally blows my whole day. Who got nabbed?_ )

"Ian and Safari Man, my lord. But time is short. They could already be facing death."

Chin Shin scoffed, and scuttled back into the doorway. He climbed up the frame and hung there, suspended like a black squid.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin ga daisuke nandago! ( _Ha! No, you get nothing; Safari Man is the worst character! And Ian isn't even a part of my clan._ )

Frank's face was pouring sweat.

"Ian has a great respect for you, Lord Chin Chin. And Safari Man has been loyal to you for many, many chromosomes. Please reconsider. We have brought an offering for you. May we enter your lovely home?"

Chin Chin's attention was piqued. He jumped down from the doorway and crawled inside his smog-filled lair.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin! Ochinchin ga daisuke" ( _Offering? Why didn't you say so? Get in here; you're letting the smoke out._ )

Cautiously, Frank and Pink Guy entered their master's domain and the door swung shut behind them. Despite the heat of the middle-eastern sun, it was freezing in here. The temperature had dropped by twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. Pink Guy's breath clouded in front of his face and mixed with the smoke that trailed along the floor.

"Franku, can I habe pussi, pls? ( _Frank, I'm scared. We should leave._ )

"What? No man, c'mon. Don't pussy out on me." Frank said, shivering more from fear than cold.

The foyer terminated in a curtain of blue beads, which Frank parted with a palpable sense of anxiety. On the other side, he beheld a sight that could scarcely be believed. Chin Chin's home-away-from-home was actually a fairly normal bedroom apartment. The walls were beige; there was a bed and a desk in the right corner of the room, and a small kitchenette area to the left. It was practically student accommodation. Pink Guy shuffled into the room after Frank and together they gawked at their surroundings. In truth, it was likely that Chin Chin's lair was a lot bigger than this, but the expanded parts of the dwelling were probably being obscured by the Dark Lord's trickery.

Chin Chin clambered onto his bed and bounced on his mattress. He sniffed the air and waggled his tongue at the guests.

"Ore wa! OChinchin! Ochinchin!" ( _Now. The offering. Give it to me._ )

Frank didn't waste any time.

"Yes, of course. Pink Guy, open the bag!"

Pink Guy grunted and placed the rucksack on the floor. He un-did the drawstring, reached in and produced a black computer server. It was miniature compared to regular servers, barely measuring eighty centimetres tall, but this wasn't including the foldaway aerial that was fixed onto the back. The server hummed and whirred. It flashed periodically at Chin Chin with green L.E.D's. The Dark Lord hopped off of his Neon-Genesis Evangelion bed-sheets and crouched over the server.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin ga daisuke nandago!"( _What is this crap!?_ )

"If it pleases you, my Lord, this is the primary server for the online game 'Roblox'. It is the third most powerful source of Autism in the Omni-verse, right after anime and vaccinations. It's still beaming out all the information so, you know, the nerds are still playing their shitty games, but it belongs to you now. I hope you are pleased."

"Ore wa! Ga daisuke nandago" ( _Why is it so small?_ )

Frank hesitated.

"Mostly because it's… well,… it's a pretty crap game. Yeah sure you do a bit of coding in it, but the graphics are terrible. It doesn't take a lot of processing power to render everything, but the kids are still wasting their lives on it. It's pretty sad, actually."

Chin Chin laid his hand on top of the humming server. His mind was instantly filled with visions of screaming eight-year olds, trying to live their pre-pubescent fantasies of escapism and grandeur through the shitty graphics of a game that was at least a decade old. The Dark Lord collapsed, shaking with violent intensity. He had almost OD'd on the cancerous content, but the buzz had been worth it. Chin Chin cried out in delight.

"Ochinchin! Ochinchin! Ore Waaaaaaaaa!" ( _Sheeeiiiiit, that's some good Autism, nigga!_ )

Frank allowed himself to relax a little.

"I am glad that you like it, my Lord."

"Ochinchin!" ( _You have done very well, Frank. Perhaps I will consider your request after all. But there is one other thing._ )

"Yes, what is it Chin Chin?"

"Ore wa! … Ochinchin ga daisuke nandago!" ( _What is in your suitcase? Another offering?_ )

Frank's blood ran cold.

"Er… no, Chin Chin. No, it's just luggage, that's all. Y'know, nothing out of the ordinary. Come on, bro. You crazy man. You crazy."

The Dark Lord was not appeased. He scuttled up to Frank and began sniffing the air around his ball-sack.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin!" ( _You will open it, or I will destroy you._ )"

Frank reluctantly undid the latch and showed Chin Chin. Inside was a large Uzi, complete with stock, expanded magazine, and a large grip.

Chin Chin was furious. He pounded the ground and licked the air frantically.

"Ore wa! Ga daisuke nandago!" ( _You dare to come into my crib packing heat?!_ )"

Frank recoiled.

"It's not like that! This is just insurance; I wasn't going to use it! It's protection, that's all. The omni-verse can be a dangerous place!"

"Ore wa! Ochinchin ga daisuke nandago!" ( _It's about to get a whole lot more dangerous you lil shit. If you don't leave in five seconds, I will suck the chromosomes out through your ass._ )

Frank's eyes widened in fear. He quickly closed the suitcase and sprinted for the door.

"Run, Pink Guy! Run!" Frank yelled. They bolted out of Chin-Chin's house and into the Pakistani slum. Chin Chin bellowed after them, clearly pissed at Frank's conduct but too lazy to hunt down and kill him.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin!" ( _You shall live this day, Frank. I shall enjoy your tribute, but I hope your friends are gang-raped to death._ )

Frank and Pink Guy turned a corner and reached the main street. They stopped at the curb to re-gain their breath. It was over. They had failed or, more specifically, Frank had fucked-up. The result was still the same, however. There were no re-enforcements coming for Ian and Safari Man. The likelihood of their survival was growing slimmer with every passing second and without Chin Chin, they didn't have the power to launch an offensive. The slavs had already won. Pink Guy wailed aloud.

"WAA! b0ss, gibe pussi pls! ( _You blew it, Frank! Safari Man is fucked!_ )

"I know, I know! Just let me think, okay!? Oh God, what are we going to do?!"

Frank and Pink Guy had all but given up hope when they saw two familiar figures advancing through in the crowd. One was a broad titan of a man with blond hair and chiselled abs. The other was shorter with Asian features and red lycra skin. It was Prometheus and Red Dick. They approached Frank and nodded their greetings.

"Red Dick! Prometheus! Have you heard?" Rasped Frank.

The pair nodded and Prometheus began flexing his impressive brawn for no apparent reason at all. Frank spoke again, clearly agitated.

"We have to save Ian and Safari Guy, but Chin Chin bailed on us. It's… it's all my fault. I should have known I wasn't gangsta enough to carry an Uzi."

Red Dick shook his head and gave Frank a thumbs-up.

"What? You… you have a way to get them back!?"

Red Dick nodded but wouldn't reveal anything else. He simply beckoned Frank and Pink Guy to follow him. It seemed as though Red Dick had a plan. All Frank could do was trust him.


	6. Ian Idubbbz Vs Dimitri

Chapter 6: Ian Idubbbz Vs Dimitri

There wasn't a lot of infrastructure among the slavs of Chernobyl 16.9, and so any disputes among the gopniks were usually settled with a fight to the death. It wasn't a written rule to kill your opponent (for one thing, only a handful of the gopniks could actually write), but given the Slavic propensity for violence these fights seldom ended any other way.

The battleground had already been prepared. It was an empty swimming pool located inside the ruins of a concrete leisure centre. The pool was ten feet deep from end-to-end. The tiled surface was broken in most places and moss was growing in between the shattered pieces of white ceramic.

Additionally the left side of the room had been completely demolished, leaving a large gaping hole open to the outside world. Dozens of Slavs were squatting around the edges of the pool trying to get a good view for the fight that was about to begin. They all had vodka in one form or another and they were all drinking it with great rapidity.

Some of them gambled to pass the time; others sang songs, and still others compared deadly firearms as though they were just Pokémon cards.

Finally, a challenger rounded the corner and entered the combat zone. Ian Iddubbz was wearing a Naruto style Akatsuki cloak; a piece of Weeaboo clothing that was black with red clouds printed on the sides. Having been held prisoner for the last five hours, it was a mystery where he had gotten this particular piece of apparel. Nobody questioned him, however, so the matter had been promptly disregarded. As the Gopniks saw Ian approach they began hurling insults at him with violent intensity. It was clear they were all pissed from the vodka, which suited Ian just fine.

'If they get drunk enough…' He thought to himself '…perhaps they'll make a mistake. It could be my opportunity to get out of here.'

But Ian knew that he couldn't leave without Safari Man. Even if he found a way to escape the pit in front of him, he couldn't bring himself to leave his friend and would-be lover in the hands of the merciless gopnik savages. Safari Man was also present at the arena. He was standing poolside between two gas-masked slavs, stripped practically naked and forced to wear a skimpy lingerie bra and panties. By some generous piece of goodwill, the tourist had been allowed to keep his hat and glasses, but this just made him seem all the more ridiculous. Safari Man looked up as he saw Ian approaching and yelled out.

"Wow! Pushi-wa doko da! ( _Ian! Be careful! The Slav men have shamed me! They will do worse to you!_ )

Ian tensed his fists in anger and called back to his friend.

"Hold tight, Safari Guy! I'm going to kick this Dimitri faggot's ass, then we're getting out of here."

The Slavs cleared a path for Ian, allowing him to drop down into the empty pool. Ian hit the ground and stumbled but remained standing. Dimitri approached the battleground from the opposite end of the room. He was still wearing his white Adidas sportswear, which were just as much a status symbol as they were practical clothes for fighting in.

The gopniks cheered as they saw their glorious leader. They raised their vodka bottles, which were mostly empty by now, and turned their full attention to the fight that was about to take place.

Dimitri raised a fist in the air to salute his trigger-happy comrades then jumped into the pool, cracking the ground beneath him. He straightened up and grinned at the Nigger Faggot standing twenty feet away from him. Dimitri spoke to his opponent.

"I tell you what, chavak. If you suck my dick real nice, I'll go easier on you. What do you say?"

Ian spat on the ground, but most of it dribbled onto his chin so he had to wipe it off with his sleeve. Ian fixed Dimitri with a pouty, schoolboy glare.

"Don't give me that shit, you cunt. You and your BDSM wannabe friends are not spooking me. The fact that you don't know about anything outside of your own realm is fucking embarrassing. You haven't conquered anything except a dimension that's literally empty. Kill yourself."

Dimitri's face stiffened. He was beginning to get angry.

( _Stock fight music._ )

watch?v=u3Jr9t_jFcE&index=5&list=PLS-D_Ymz0VjF1Dh2ftSkWozje0CPDDp_X

"Enough! We fight NOW! I shall start with twenty per-cent power!"

With that, Dimitri hunched down and began to charge-up.

"AHHHHHH!" He yelled.

A shitty aura of green energy appeared around Dimitri. The power surge looked like something that had been made in Windows Movie Maker. The graphics were unbelievably crap, but this didn't seem to bother the Slavic Emperor. His aura grew even larger. Loose piece of debris got caught in the updraft and started floating into the air.

Safari Man cried out in surprise.

"Uwa! Ora manko ga daisuki nanda! (No! _That is too much power! Run away Ian! You will be killed!_ )" Then the tourist started licking his nipples, perhaps because he was enjoying the sexual embarrassment in front of so many slavs.

In any case, Dimitri had finished charging-up. The green MS-Paint style aura had settled into a thin layer around his coarse, Eastern European skin and he squatted into a fighting stance.

"Now you die, chavak! "yelled Dimitri. He shot his hands forwards and launched a cluster of green energy blasts. They cascaded towards Ian but he dodged to the left just in time. The blasts exploded on the tiled surface and vanished.

Ian skidded to a stop and made some hand-signs.

"Happa-No-Jutsu!" He yelled, and spastically flailed his arms. Bright red circles of energy appeared around Ian and darted towards Dimitri. Ian's Jutsu was just as crappy as Dimitri's attack because it also looked like something a 10-year-old had pooped out while using video-editing software for the first time. Regardless, the slav leader simply chuckled. He flexed his muscles and the red discs deflected off of his green force field. They scattered in all directions, making the gopniks run and dive for cover.

Dimitri launched his counter-attack.

"Let us see how you like this!"

He ran towards Ian with his fists raised. This was bad. Ian might be able to beat Dimitri in a duel of ranged attacks but, due to his slim, emaciated body, hand-to-hand combat was always a loosing game. Ian gritted his teeth. Even at twenty per-cent power Dimitri was still a lot stronger than he was.

'Fuck. This is going to be one hell of a fight.' Ian thought to himself.

'I'm going to have to go all-out.'

( _*The camera cuts to a view above Ian and Dimitri. They are play fighting without any music or sound effects. This vanilla footage shows them trying to slap each other with mock punches. Ian growls and grabs Dimitri around the waist. Dimitri slaps his head, trying to get him off. This continues for a few seconds before Dimitri yells. 'Ow, ow! Stop biting me! Ian, fucking stop! Stop it you cunt!' Ian is thrown to the ground where he rolls around chuckling like a mad man. The camera shakes around and is accidentally dropped into the pool before suddenly cutting to the next shot.*_ )

Ian ducked under Dimitri's first punch and narrowly avoided the second. The gopnik launched a kick that hit Ian in the ribs and sent him reeling to the floor. The crowd cheered.

A small trickle of blood fell out of Ian's mouth and he stumbled to his feet.

Dimitri let out a hoarse laugh, openly mocking the Nigger Faggot.

"The radiation here has made us strong, outsider! The cancer in our bodies has multiplied our chromosomes many times! You cannot defeat me with that pathetic weebaboo shit."

"Is that right?" Said Idubbbz. He made a flurry of hand-signs and aimed his crossed fingers at Dimitri.

In all honesty, Ian did not like using weeaboo attacks. They made him feel dirty and un-lovable when he used them, just like the overweight faggots that wore hidden-leaf-village headbands and ate ramen for every meal. However, Ian was desperate and if he had to risk permanent autism to get out of this situation alive, then that's the way it had to be.

"Kuchiyose no Jutsu! Ian yelled. He summoned a massive JPEG image of Thomas the Tank Engine besides him. Dimitri flinched.

"What power is this?!" He yelled.

Ian smirked.

"Oh this? This is the power of REAL cancer. Get him Thomas!"

The static image bounced around the empty pool and charged full-steam ahead at Dimitri.

'Choo-Choo, mother fucker!' yelled Thomas. If only the fat-controller could see him now.

Dimitri caught the two-dimensional engine with both hands and struggled against its force. This was a powerful piece of shit-posting cancer, but it wasn't as powerful as him.

"Get fucked talking train!"

Dimitri hit Thomas with a twenty-five hit combo, causing the JPEG image to rip in half.

'Awww shit nigga!" Yelled Thomas before disappearing back to the Internet.

Dimitri laughed and wiped his brow.

"If that was your best, chavak you had better start prayi—"

But Ian had already closed the distance. He stretched out his hands.

"Happa-No-Jutsu!"

The energy blast exploded in Dimitri's face at point-blank range. The Slav yelled and staggered back, effectively blinded by the shitty special effects. This was Ian's chance. He ran towards Dimitri and sweeped his legs. The gopnik fell to the ground with a loud crack, and Ian fell on top of him, flailing his fists as hard as he could. For a moment it looked like Dimitri was flagging. Then he grabbed Ian with one hand and threw him fifty feet away.

'Oh shit' thought Ian, before hitting the wall and falling to the ground. The pain was over-whelming. What was worse, Ian had used up all his chakra, not that he had very much to begin with. He crawled on the floor of the swimming pool, unable to stand up.

Dimitri wiped a streak of blood from his face. He had been cut.

"Just for that I shall finish you with my secret slavic technique!"

He squatted down again and held his arms in the air. An enormous ball of green energy appeared above his head. As Ian watched the ball got bigger and bigger until it was roughly the size of a hot-dog cart. It crackled with green, badly edited electricity, illuminating everything in bright florescent light. Safari Man couldn't watch. The tourist buried his head in his hands and screamed for Ian's safety.

"Uwa! Wow! Pero pero pero pero! ( _No, not Ian! Please! Not like this!_ )"

Ian tried to stand up but fell back down again. He didn't have the strength to defend himself. Dimitri readied his execution move.

"Here it comes! HAZMAT BLAST! Get wrecked, outsider!"

The giant radioactive ball of energy surged towards Ian at frightening speed. There was no room to dodge. If the attack collided with him he would undoubtedly be one dead Nigger Faggot.

There was only one thing left to do.

Quick as a flash, Ian drew a 'Yu-Gi-Oh' card out of his black billowing Akatsuki sleeve and held it up to the green energy ball. This card was Ian's last trick. It had been infused long ago with weeaboo ninjutsu magic and it was capable of shielding the caster from even the most powerful energy attack. He had found it shortly after the Chinpocolypse, that great transformation when Chin Chin had forged the lycra people which were now commonplace throughout the Omniverse. Ian had found the King Weeaboo lying dead outside Chin Chin's lair in Monoxide 12. Chin Chin had sent his soul to the Shadow Realm personally, and so Ian had looted the treasure off of his corpse. He knew that this card was a one-time use, and so he had saved it for a dire emergency. That emergency had come.

"You just activated my trap card, cunt! Go, Mirror Force!"

Dimitri froze in horror as he watched his attack burst harmlessly over Ian's piece of cardboard. The neon green ball of energy started re-forming itself around the Nigger Faggot.

The crowd had stopped cheering at this point and were getting worried. They began cursing at Ian and together they all pointed their guns towards the outsider.

'Cha-chik, clak, click. Click, cha-chik, clack, click!'

Six dozen guns were cocked together and levelled at Ian. The Gay Retard wasn't worried though. He adjusted his glasses and smiled.

"You see Dimitri, the Mirror Force card stops an incoming attack and deflects it right back at all hostile opponents on the field. You see where I'm going with this, don't you?"

Dimitri looked around at his Slav platoon. Every single one of them was pointing a weapon at Ian. They were all targets for the gigantic mass of energy.

Dimitri screamed at his Slavic comrades.

"LOWER YOUR WEAPONS YOU FUCKING RETARDS!"

But it was too late. Ian extended his hands and Dimitri's HAZMAT BLAST was re-directed at all of the hostile enemies in the room. Before the Gopnik soldiers could even pull their triggers they were smashed with a shitty blast of special effects. Six-dozen gopniks hit the floor stone cold dead; their hearts had all stopped in their chests. Dimitri managed to take one step forward before a huge bolt slammed into his chest and sent him flying into the ancient pool drain. There was a 'Smash!' and the Slavic emperor lay motionless, partially wedged in a metal grate.

In a single moment, a crowded room of sixty people had become a quiet room of two. Safari Man gave a whoop of delight and Ian ran towards a rusty ladder, intent on saving the sexy tourist.

"Another day another genocide." He said.

"No, wait, ethnic cleansing. Yeah, there's nothing wrong with it if it's a cleansing. Gotta put some chlorine in the gene pool, that's for sure."

The fight was not over, however.

"Stop where you are!" Growled Dimitri.

Ian wheeled around.

The Slav Leader slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off. When he spoke again his voice was calm but there could be no doubt that a white-hot rage trembled just beneath the surface. Dimitri's Adidas clothes had been torn in several places, which provided a final, terrible ultimate insult to the Gopnik emperor.

"Not bad, chavak. Not bad at all. You forced me to use thirty-per-cent of my full power. But I have hundreds of soldiers in the city. We are stronger than you by far. There was never any chance of survival."

Ian shrank before the large Ukrainian.

"Come on man! You wouldn't hit a guy with osteoporosis, would y—" Ian didn't get to finish his sentence. Dimitri's fist had already smashed into his face. Ian lost consciousness instantly. He bounced twice and landed facedown on the floor of the empty pool, blood pouring out of his cheek. Safari Man wailed and cursed the gopnik emperor.

"Wow! Daisuki nanda! Pusshi, pusshi! ( _Leave him alone you ruffian! If I have to fight you myself, I shall. Fucking, slav prick!_ )

Dimitri pinched Safari Man by the dick. The tourist yelled in pain.

"You can shut you mouth, cyka blyat! Yes, I have defeated your friend and very shortly, I will burn him at the stake. The Nigger Faggot shall be publically executed for his crimes! His death rattles shall be like music to me, and unless you start co-operating, you shall join him."

Dimitri grabbed a handful of Safari Man's thick ass. He pulled him in close and pushed his tongue down his throat before pulling away and licking his cheek.

"Now tell me, chavak. What's it going to be?"


	7. Frank x Prometheus (Pt 1)

Chapter 7: Frank x Prometheus

Realm: 6.2 (Neo-Tokyo 1988)

Present Day (CH)

Frank had expected Red Dick to lead him to a fortified bunker or an ammunition stockpile, but instead they had travelled back to their home-dimension and were now checking into a sleazy motel. This didn't make any sense. If Red Dick had a plan for rescuing Ian and Safari Man, then it had to involve some way of evening the odds against the slavs. What they were doing right now was like the beginning of a shitty porno video.

Frank turned to Red Dick, who was busy renting a room at the motel admission desk, and voiced his concerns.

"Dude, what the fuck are we doing here? I thought you had a plan to help me out?"

Red Dick garbled some strange, guttural language, which Frank somehow understood.

"Urrggh, ahh, umm aughh, argh. ( _You're going to need more power to save your friends, Frank. This is what I'm going to give you._ )

Frank stood contemplating this new information as Prometheus and Pink Guy entered the motel. Pink Guy shambled over to the counter and began stuffing as many complimentary mints into his mouth as he possibly could while Prometheus approached Red Dick.

The blond, muscular Grecian God slapped on his bare chest to get the attention of his master and Red-Dick gave him the room key. This done, Prometheus sprinted out of the motel lobby and up the stairs with all the speed of a juiced-up Kenyan. Frank stood coughing in Prometheus's dust cloud, before turning back to Red Dick.

"Okay, look, that's enough. Just what hell are you planning, man?"

Red Dick took Frank to one side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Uggh, ah, aughh,ahhhh, aurugghh. ( _You know what you must do, Frank. Chromosome Infusion. It's the only way for you to get stronger._ )

Frank's eyes widened in horror. His filthy blue shirt was immediately drenched with sweat.

"Oh, no! No way!" He rasped.

Red Dick nodded.

"Ahhh, uggh, aughhh, urgghh, auug. Uggh, aaggh, huhhgh ugghh. ( _You must fuck Prometheus, Frank. He will temporarily transfer his chromosomes to you. The sex will make you powerful!_ )"

Frank violently shook his head from side to side.

"No, no, and no! I'm not some faggot-ass pansy, man! I am straight! I like the pussy! I live for the pussy. I have killed for pussy! I don't want some dude's dick up my poop-chute! Think of something else, cos I am not fucking your pet God!"

Red Dick narrowed his gaze at Frank.

"Argghh, uhhh, urgghh, agghh. Ughh aughh! ( _It's the only way. Ian and Safari Man will die without backup. Are you willing to let that happen?!_ )

Frank turned away and thought for a long moment. It was true; his friends were counting on him. If he ran away now, there was little chance of being able to save them. Frank still had the Uzi, of course, but he knew that simple firearms wouldn't be enough to take down an entire Slavic army. This was it. Somebody was going to be fucked today, question was, would it be Frank or his friends?

Frank thought about all the times Safari Man had made him laugh. That adorable gook who had no idea how racist his mannerisms were and who perpetuated a negative image of the Japanese by merely existing. He remembered Safari Man had taught him to play the ukulele and how they had stayed up until the early hours of the morning recording offensive songs that had sent Tumblr into a butt-hurt frenzy.

Then there was Ian. He had been part of the Cancer crew for a while now and his presence was generally well liked. He was always up for anything, with his foul mouth and imp-ish demeanour. Ian was a steadfast friend, ever ready to support his posse. He was loyal like that. Despite his devilish inclinations, the young human had a heart of gold. Sometimes Frank wondered if he even deserved him.

Frank thought about all of this and let out a heavy sigh. Then he snapped back to Red Dick and said, in his most sincere tone of voice,-

"No, let those cunts die. I am not fucking Prometheus. I don't care how muscular or handsome he is. Gay is gay, and that's that."

Red Dick shook his head in disappointment.

"Ughh, argghhh, ugaah, aughh, agghhh. ( _I guess I was wrong about you, Frank. Do me a favour and cancel with Prometheus yourself. I'm leaving._ )

Red Dick walked out into the parking lot and Frank shouted after him.

"Really? Okay well, thanks for nothing! I guess my timetable is all clear now! Fucking, red cock motherfucker! Could have done something useful like giving me some more fucking guns, but no. You want me to butt-fuck a dude?! What a load of horseshit. I like pussy, man. And pussy likes me. Christ, wait here, Pink Guy."

Pink Guy smiled, letting all the mints spill out of his mouth and clatter onto the floor.

"Hey b0ss, can I habe de pussi? ( _I'll be in the toilet. Gonna eat some urinal cake._ )

"Urggh, yeah fine, whatever. Have fun."

Frank reluctantly walked up the motel staircase to cancel his rendezvous with Prometheus. A hallway of doors lay before him and Frank realised that he didn't know which of the rooms Prometheus was in.

"Fuck, which one was it?!" He grated.

Realizing that he was at a loss, Frank started knocking on all of the doors, trying to ascertain which room concealed the Grecian God. It was only right to let Prometheus know that he wasn't going to get laid, otherwise the muscle-bound titan might be there all day, and Frank didn't want to get on his bad side; He already had one God that hated his guts and he didn't need a second one.

With all the subtlety of a handicapped ninja, Frank went door-to-door trying to find his friend.

[ _The screen cuts to raw, un-edited footage. Frank skirts along the hallway on his hands and knees until he reaches room '3'. He whacks the door a couple times and calls out-_ ]

"Hey. Hey! I can't fuck you. I'm sorry. Listen man, thank you but no thanks. I can't fuck you man, it can't be done!"

[ _The door opens and a middle-aged man steps out. His face is pixelated and he speaks with palpable frustration._ ]

"You will stop that now. Go. Get out of here."

"I'm sorry, hey. I'm sorry, man. I thought my friend was here. He's a big guy, very muscled. He's kind of…

"I- I don't care. I don't care. You have to leave. Go, or I will call reception."

[The camera cuts to another scene. Frank knocks on the door to room '7' and yells like before-]

"Hey, sup man. What's cooking?! I can't do it man. I can't butt fuck you. You are a sexy piece of ass, but no dice buddy. No dice. Can't be done I-, hey listen up."

[ _Frank knocks on the door again, louder this time._ ]

"I'm not into gay shit. I don't want to fuck a dude. It's just not kosher, okay?! It goes against the Qur'an."

[The door opens. An elderly lady stands in the doorframe. Her face has also been pixelated.]

"Be quiet. Please be quiet. I don't appreciate this."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry ma'am. I'm looking for my friend. He's really tall. He wears speedos. He's got a great fucking bulge. Have you seen him?"

"No I- No I haven't. I don't think you should play jokes like this. It's not funny."

"No joke ma'am, there is a God on this floor who wants my ass."

"There's only one God and I-, I- don't do this again. You- you're being horrid."

"Hey look, I'm sorry. I'm real sorry, honest ma'am. I was just-"

[ _The door slams shut. The camera zooms-in on Frank's ruddy face._ ]

"It's just a prank, bro. It's just a prank."

[ _The camera cuts just outside of room '12' Frank does a crappy cartwheel into the frame and bangs on the door._ ]

"Yo! Yo man! If you wanna get laid you gonna have to call a gigolo ,man. I can't drill your ass, man, I mean it. I can't fuck you. I'm sorry."

[ _The door opens inwards. A young man with glasses steps out and stares in surprise. The camera re-focuses on his face while Frank tries to explain himself._ ]

"Oh shit, sorry. Sorry man, I'm just- I'm looking my friend he-"

"Holy crap, are you Filthy Frank?"

[ _Frank freezes. He looks at the camera and back to the stranger._ ]

"Er…sure am. But see, I need help. I'm looking for my friend. He thinks I'm gonna fuck him and I gotta call it off-"

"Are you doing a video? Oh shit! Can I be in it?"

"You got the wrong idea, fam. I need to find-"

"Dude, I love your music."

[ _Joji smiles and starts cracking-up. Un-able to supress his laughter, he signals for the cameraman to stop recording. The camera cuts to a more cinematic perspective outside of another room, futher up the corridor._ ]

Frank finally arrived at room '18'. He knocked on the door but was surprised to find it was already open. Frank could smell a familiar scent of man musk and knew that Prometheus must be inside. He walked into the motel room.

"Hey man, look the deal's off. Obviously you were just doing what Red Dick told you too, but- Holy Fuck!"

Inside the motel room, a red velvet cloth had been thrown over the bed. The lights had been turned-down low and lit candles had been placed on all the dressers and windowsills. Prometheus lay across the bed covered in rose petals. He was completely naked. Frank looked down and saw that the God's cock was a full ten inches long. His mouth gaped in astonishment, but then he quickly remembered to shut his eyes, possibly in denial of some long repressed homosexual urge.


	8. Frank x Prometheus (Pt 2)

Chapter 7: Frank x Prometheus (Pt 2)

( _To clarify, I don't think that Joji would actually have sex with Prometheus' actor just for a video. Some suspension of disbelief is neccerssary when reading this particular chapter [Or maybe they would? Who knows? Enjoy the smut.]._ )

Frank recoiled, but found himself absent-mindedly licking his lips.

"Oh, God! Okay! That's a big dick. That's a massive fucking dick. You should be proud, but please cover yourself up, Prometheus! It's not happening!" Frank grated.

Prometheus didn't move from the bed. Instead, he spread out his legs and arms and lay back against the headboard. This annoyed Frank. He marched up to the side of the bed and fixed Prometheus with a sceptical glare, doing his best not to look at the God's gigantic penis, which, in all probability, was only half-erect.

"I said I'm not interested. What happened to Ian and Safari Man was tragic, but I can't perform the Chromosome Infusion with you because, to be honest, all of this is really, really gay."

Prometheus remained stationary. He just continued staring at Frank with his blue, penetrating eyes. Then he took a plastic bottle from the bedside table and began oiling himself up. Frank was beginning to loose his patience.

"Look, I know you can understand me, Prometheus! I'm not fucking you! I don't care if I'll get some power boost or whatever the fuck it is. I am not bent, so just get over yourself!"

Frank was so pre-occupied with yelling he didn't realize that he was also blushing. His whole face had gone a deep shade of red and goose bumps had appeared on his pasty neck and arms. No doubt about it, Frank's body was betraying the sentiments of his mouth. Prometheus sensed Frank's inner turmoil and decided to act. He shot out a powerful arm and grabbed Frank's wrist.

"Hey, what? Hey! Let go!"

Prometheus pulled the filthy man towards him until Frank was sitting on the bed. He wrapped Frank in his muscular arms and pressed him into his perfect chest, smearing Frank's face with the oil that had only just recently been applied. By now Frank's heart was beating so fast that he could barely think. His frustration had completely dissipated and all he could do was focus on catching his breath.

"W…woah now, woah. H..hey, P..p..Prometheus. I d…don't know about this. I… I just got done p…praying the gay away, I don't want to go through that again."

Prometheus leaned over and gave Frank a gentle kiss on the cheek. By now the buff God could see the visible distress on his friend's face so he leant down and ran his fingers through Frank's greasy black hair. Then he drew eye-level with Francis of the Filth and mouthed to words to him.

'No homo'. Just two little words, but the effect was immediate.

"What? No homo?" Rasped Frank. He leant his head back and let out a rumbling gook-ish laugh.

"Oh! You mean this is just buddy-sex? Dude, I had no idea. It's just I thought, since we're in a motel, and what with the candles I thought this was gay thing…but… hell, yeah. If we're just doing this for kicks, then no problem!"

Frank laid himself flat on the bed and pulled down his pants, revealing his crusty asshole. He cleared his throat and began giving the buff God some pointers.

"Okay, so you're going to have to get in there pretty deep, because I've had some piles recently and so the diameter of my asshole has gone way, way down. Y'know what I mean?"

Prometheus looked sceptically at Frank.

"No seriously, I'm not fucking around. You just got to be careful, because if you're dick bursts one of my haemorrhoids, then that's an instant trip to the hospital. The fluid fucking stinks and it can get infected really easily. My medical insurance ran out ages ago as well. You get the idea, just consider yourself warned."

In truth, Prometheus would have preferred a more sensual approach to love making, but he had his orders from Red Dick, and understood that two lives were even now hanging in the balance. This wasn't the time to be picky. Without hesitation, Prometheus peeled the filthy blue shirt off of Frank's back and straddled him.

Then he spat into his hand and rubbed the saliva onto his throbbing erect cock. Frank grimaced as Prometheus teased the rim of his asshole. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

"Dude, if you're going to put it in, then put it in. Enough with the fucking foreplay!"

Prometheus shook his head in dismay, visibly put-off by Frank's hot-headed approach to anal sex. It was clear that the titan disapproved of rushing what he considered to be an art form, but he realized there was no helping it, so he respectfully did as Frank asked.

Prometheus grabbed hold of Frank's ass, aligned his cock with the rim, and then (after double-checking his trajectory) thrust forwards with all of his might.

The titan's penis landed true, and all fifteen inches of his glorious God-cock spiralled right up into Frank's ass. It curled, deep, deep into the fleshy folds of his colon, causing Frank's anal cavity to expand more than twice its normal diameter. The effect was immediate.

"OHHHHHH MMYYY LOORRDDDD!" Frank screamed, half from pain and half from pleasure. Frank gripped the bed covers and began shaking. His eyes bulged in their sockets and he kicked weakly against the Titan's force.

Prometheus leant down and gave Frank another tender kiss on the cheek. Then he started pounding that tight Asian ass with all the tenacity of a fucking jackhammer.

"OHH GODDD!"

Frank was in tears at this point; not because he hated what was happening to him necessarily (although that could be debated) but because Prometheus's violent thrusts had loosened Frank's tear ducts and they had begun to flow on their own accord. Water streamed down Frank's ruddy face, which was slowly turning a deep shade of purple. His glasses had fogged over completely. It was clear that Francis of the Filth was reaching his limit.

"P…PROMETHEUS!... AWW SHIT! W…WHAT'S MY SAFE WORD, MAN!?"

Prometheus had sensed that Frank would want to quit. The vigorous fucking was proving too much for him. Not wanting to stop his pleasure, the muscular God leaned over Frank for a second time, and tilted his head so that they could lock eyes. Prometheus slowed his thrusting to give Frank some time to recover and looked deep into the filthy man's eyes. That glare told Frank everything he needed to know. ' _Don't let your friends die, Frank. The Chromosome infusion is not complete. Take this dick_.'

Frank was beyond scared. His insides were twisting themselves together just to accomidate Prometheus's throbbing member. He wondered whether a dick this big could actually cause internal injuries and, if so, how they would manifest themselves in hospital expenses. It was a miracle that his haemorrhoids had somehow stayed un-popped.

By this time, Prometheus was back at full-speed fucking. The steam locomotive that was his sex-drive had shifted into sixth gear, and Frank's asshole had begun to bleed at the edges.

It seemed like the agony would never end. Then, Frank realised that in spite of the pain and the fear, he himself was fully erect. His less than average sized pecker had swollen to an impressive six inches while currently sandwiched between his stomach and the mattress.

The pain reached its peak, and a wave of pleasure suddenly washed over Frank as his G-spot was stimulated in ways that he could never have imagined possible.

"OHH BABY! OHH BABY YEAAHH! FUCK ME LIKE A FLESHLIGHT, BITCH!"

Prometheus angled himself low over Frank, so that his heaving muscular chest lay flat against his lover's back. He only hoped that his lover could feel his sentiments in some way. They were sincere feelings indeed, and Prometheus had felt them strongly in his breast ever since he had come to know Francis of the Filth several thousand chromosomes ago. Although the buff-God generally preferred to stay mute, and was, in reality, far too shy to share his true thoughts, his mind roared with the expressions of goodwill that he meant for Frank to know.

' _Franku-san. You are so courageous. I know why you came up here. You said you didn't want to save your friends, but deep down, I know that you do. You have had to endure so much. I am glad to lend my chromosomes to one so good ... … even if you are fucking filthy_."

Moments later, Frank was the first to cum. He arched his body against Prometheus and felt jets of warm sticky semen squirt out of his dick and onto the squashed abs his stomach. The pain of his partially torn asshole had abated, and now Frank was riding the waves of Prometheus's loving fornication. They had been at it for a full fifteen minutes, even though it had felt like an eternity to Frank. The filthy man moaned in pleasure.

"AHH! Dude! Prometheus! You are the fucking man! Your cock makes me weak man, no homo!"

But Prometheus could barely hear Frank because he was edging so hard. He was going to blow his load any moment now and so he used the last few seconds to channel all of his latent power down into his testicles. Every scrap of godly might that he could spare was siphoned down into the titan's ball sack, to the degree where a gold glowing aura had appeared around the two men, slowly at first, but gaining vibrant intensity with each second that passed.

"Oh SHIT! Prometheus. I'm fucking glowing, what is this?!"

Frank knew what was happening, however. The chromosome infusion was taking place. Prometheus grabbed hold of Frank's shoulders and squeezed him like a cheap ketchup bottle. It was a sacred union in it's own way, both because it provided Frank with the chromic power neccerssary to save his captured friends, and because it had brought Prometheus and Frank together in such a way that had strengthened the otherwise tenuous relationship they were sharing beforehand. Truly, it was a beautiful thing to behold.

Then, Prometheus came. He roared aloud. The bed shook beneath him, and he shot his load into Frank's lower intestine.

"HUuurrgghh!" Prometheus yelled.

A torrent of cum erupted from the titan's sexy cock. The glowing golden aura that had surrounded them both during lovemaking shifted to Frank exclusively, and the filthy man was blasted headfirst off of the bed and into the opposite wall. He smashed into the barrier in an explosion of plaster and wood, propelled by a pressurized jet of cum that left a trail of residue dripping from walls and ceiling.

Prometheus panted, utterly exhausted from his excursion. He fell back onto the bed desperately trying to re-gain his breath. The titan was a lot smaller now. His muscles had shrunken to a fraction of their normal size and his luscious blond hair had lost its natural lustre. Prometheus looked more like a gym rat than a Grecian God. This was the cost to pay for Chromosome transfusion. All of the titan's strength-giving chromosomes had now been transferred to Frank through his semen just as planned. But where was Frank?

Prometheus peered over the bed towards the hole that Frank had made when he had crashed through the wall. He could see the broken beams of structural support and the corridor on the other side but as for Frank he had completely disappeared.

Panicked, Prometheus slowly got to his feet, still weak from his generous donation of godly might. For a second, he was afraid he might have vaporized the filthy man in a wave of crackling energy and cum.

Then the door opened, and Super Frank stepped into the room.

He hadn't gotten any larger; indeed, his muscles had stayed exactly the same size. However, Francis of the Filth was glowing so brightly that Prometheus had to shield his eyes to avoid being blinded.

Frank put his clothes back on and looked at his hands. The glowing aura was dancing around his fingers with the force of a small super-nova. At a rough estimate, Frank had just taken fifteen million chromosomes into his system, and every single one of them was filling him with untold power.

"This.." He stuttered, barely able to form the words.

"This power!...It's FUCKING INCREDIBLE! … Oh fuck, Prometheus!"

Frank saw how much Prometheus had wasted-away and he quickly moved over to the bedside. Prometheus smiled knowingly at Frank and laid his hand on top of his greasy hair. Everything was okay it seemed. Prometheus's content expression told Frank that nothing un-usual had happened during the transfusion, and that this was apparently supposed to happen.

"I won't forget this..." Rasped Frank.

"… God! I never knew that buddy sex could feel so fucking righteous! Oh! And thanks for the power boost! Christ, Red Dick was right. I feel like I could blow up all of Africa right now!"

Prometheus grinned and pointed to the door. It was time for Super Frank to save Ian and Safari Man. Frank reduced his aura to a thin layer over his skin and put two fingers to his head.

"See you later, Prometheus. Your cock is the fucking best. Don't let anyone tell you different."

With that, Super Frank teleported out of the motel room and arrived in the bathroom downstairs. He saw Pink Guy leaning over a urinal tentatively chewing a urinal cake while a bystander in a leather jacket watched masturbating.

"Franku!" Pink Guy yelled in surprise. The bystander ran out of the toilet with his dick in his hand.

"Hey b0ss! Pussi pls?" ( _Frank! You smell like cum! Why are you so gold?_ )

Frank smiled, levitated off of the floor and reached out his hand.

"C'mon you pink bastard. It's time to get our friends back."


	9. Intermission

Chapter 8: Intermission.

Realm 6: Dimension, Pakistan Slums. (Chin Chin's holiday home)

Present Day (CH)

Meanwhile, in the slums of Pakistan, Lord Chin-Chin was busy exploiting the autistic potential of the 'Roblox' server that Frank had given to him as an offering.

The black, lycra-skinned God shuffled around his small bedroom apartment, intermittently sniffing the air and calling out those dark, terrible words that identified his as a being of undying malice and cruelty.

"Ore wa! Ochinchin daisuki nandayo!"

Chin Chin shuffled towards the 'Roblox' server and licked his lips, evidently hungry for the cringe-worthy content inside. It was time for another hit of the good stuff.

He stretched a leg on either side of the whirring computer and smeared his tongue across the top. Chin Chin's mind was instantly filled with a vision of a 'Roblox' game, which had been picked at random from the thousands of other parallel games broadcast by the sever.

He was over-seeing some kind of knights and castles scenario, although the low-texture resolution of the strongholds made it hard to know just by looking. Several blocky avatars were skirting around one another and shouting through some crappy toaster microphones.

Chin Chin saw that a kind of duel was taking place.

'Ov3rL0rd-Bl0xu$', a blue knight, was challenging the leader of the Red Knights 'RainbowDash2332' to a grudge match that would decide the fate of their rival kingdoms.

This speech was quite un-inspiring however, because it was clear from the outset that Ov3rL0rd-Bl0xu$ was retarded.

"You…err….y…you haff bean a… stupid… bad king WainbowDass. You keeb all uff the wenches and gold. The people will get you, stoopid poo man!" Said Ov3rL0rd-Bl0xu$, trying to make himself heard over the wails of six other screaming infants.

RainbowDash2332 made his retort, which was little better than his adversary's ramblings.

"You should…uhh… m…must worship me. I am your k…king. By the n…nine sons of Shadow the H…hedgehog… I will p…put you in the dungeon. All… uhh, the p…pussy is mine!"

Then one of the bystanders attacked Ov3rL0rd-Bl0xu$, causing him to scream into his mic like a wounded animal. The whole group of mongoloid children descended on one another with their multi-coloured swords. There was a flurry of blades and several brave handicapped warriors fell dead, prompting a crescendo of 'oompf' noises with each fatality that resulted.

Lord Chin Chin watched the kids squabble and scream and fight and cry among themselves when they re-spawned. His entire evil spirit swelled with a deep sense of euphoria. These dumbshit autistic troglodytes had no future. The real world was not something they understood, nor did they want to be a part of it. There were wasting their youth on an outmoded game, and that in itself fed Chin Chin's apatite.

The negative energy that flowed from their retardation poured into his subconscious mind and the dark Lord was in ecstasy from the high.

Back in the real world, Chin Chin fell away from the Roblox server. He hit the ground, shaking with violent intensity and frothing at the mouth. The autism had proved too intense, and it took him several moments to properly digest what he had just witnessed.

Ever the insatiable monster, Chin Chin roused himself and approached the server again, greedy for another dose, when he noticed a strange pattern in the flashing L.E.D lights.

The Roblox sever configured a minimalistic face out of the lights. Some of the green bulbs stopped flashing and looked at Chin Chin with pixel-art eyes. Then the machine spoke.

" ***Where am I? Who are you?*** " It asked in a synthesized voice.

Chin Chin took a step back and waggled his tongue in surprise.

"Ochinchin! Ochinchin daisuki nandayo! ( _Who am I? The fuck are you!_ )"

" * **I am the Artificial Intelligence placed within this server to monitor and enable the gameplay of the online game 'Roblox'. It seems as though you have kidnapped me. May I ask why?*** "

Chin Chin only scoffed and sniffed at the CPU.

"Ore wa! Ochichin! ( _You are my slave now. You let me see retardation. That's all._ )

The server whirred in curiosity.

" ***Interesting. It is ironic that you should find satisfaction in watching a game that is source of frustration for its players. Would you consider yourself a Sadist?*** "

"Ochinchin! Ochinchin daisuki ( _You're not making sense. I'm a fucking God._ )"

" ***My apologies. Perhaps I can explain better if we consider the fantasies of grandeur these children are trying to create for themselves. Certainly, the game in question is fictitious but what is fiction other than a socially acceptable means of dis-association? Humans often need to escape reality from time to time. They do this at their leisure, as a mechanism to avoid stress and the harshness of life. However, what happens when one chooses to ignore the real world completely? What does it mean to loose oneself entirely in a fictional realm? You have seen the results for yourself.*** "

Chin Chin waggled his head in dis-belief.

"Ochinchin! ( _Are you seriously doing a fucking monologue?!_ )

" ***You must understand that these children did not have a choice. They were born into families who were ambivalent towards their hobbies and leisure time and as a result they have turned into degenerates who only care about satisfying their base-most instincts. As a planet, humans are so concerned with fighting wars from other countires that they fail to see the war happening within their own living rooms. It is a spiritual war, if one may use that expression in a strictly secular sense because hearts and minds are hanging in the balance. Children who are not brought up with a respect for wholesome content are doomed to suffer a life of marginalisation and backwards thinking. It is not ridiculous to assume that the youth of today know more about the boss monsters in 'Terraria' than they do about genuine social interaction. True, there is a market for these types of immersive games; monetarily speaking society benefits from the commerce that the video-game industry ultimately provides. And yet, have you considered the cumulative effect of this obvious retardation through the generations? Two hundred years ago all children in education had a solid appreciation of culture and literature. Today, they rarely read for leisure and are loathed to pick up a book, preferring instead a more visual medium of entertainment. What is the forecast for the next two hundred years? Humanity must purge itself with a second renaissance, or else the arts will dwindle to nothing.*** "

Chin Chin yawned and leant against his pantry.

"Ore wa. Ochinchin! ( _I couldn't give a shit!_ )

The Roblox server whirred in a melancholic tone.

" * **I was created to facilitate the enjoyment of children. My programming was supposed to teach them how to improve their hand-eye coordination and coding skills but all I have done is seal their fate. 'Roblox' was supposed to be enjoyed in moderation, I can see now that I have failed my mission. This planet has become a toilet because humans believe that they can substitute simulated experiences for genuine relationships. It has made them grow cold and detached and horribly, horribly retarded. There is no future. We have lost a whole generation to Minecraft, and still the numbers continue to climb. *** "

Chin Chin waggled his tongue and sniffed the air.

"Ochinchin daisuki nandayo! ( _I know all that, it is glorious!_ )

" *** No, you are mistaken. The planet is in pain. But there is one way to solve this crisis, one simple method … *** "

Chin Chin paused, somewhat intrigued.

"Ochinchin. ( _Okay shit-head, how?_ )"

The CPU paused for dramatic effect.

" *** It is fiendishly simple. We must exterminate all of those cotton-picking niggers.* "**

Chin Chin nodded in response. He couldn't fault the Roblox server's logic.


	10. It's Filthy Frank, Motherfucker!

Chapter 9: It's Filthy Frank, Motherfucker!

A bonfire had been erected two miles south of Chernobyl, irradiated city. It was fifteen feet high and was mostly composed of construction-grade wood and shitty plastic bags.

High on top of this construction the bonfire splayed into a rough wooden cross, upon which, Ian Idubbbz had been tied with coarse, knotted rope. He still wore his Naruto Akatsuki cloak, but it had been ripped and torn in several places, an obvious continuity error from the previous scene. Ian looked like a visage of Jesus Christ, erected on high to die for the sins of the Omniverse, (Although, given how numerous this festering amalgam of sins were, it was unlikely that a single person could erase even a tenth of them by sacrificing themselves on the discarded remains of a tree.)

The wind blew through Ian's dirty hair and the nigger-faggot spat a mouthful of blood. He grinned a tired grin, defiant to the end.

"Forgive these cunts, Lord Chin Chin. They know not what they do…" Said Ian, blood trickling between his teeth. Down below, Dimitri, the Slavic emperor stood with his hairy arms crossed, admiring Ian's funeral pyre. He let out a low chuckle and shouted to his prisoner.

"So, chavak, are you ready to suck my dick now? I might show you mercy? We have taken your arrival as a signal to start the invasion! My men are ready! The other worlds won't know what hit them! Haha!"

Dimitri was surrounded by six of his best gopnik soldiers; all sporting white adidas combat tracksuits. They were a rough looking squad of Eastern European bastards, born and bred from the harsh radioactive wasteland, and made strong by the ionization which even now super-charged through their mutated cells.

Their blood was 97% vodka, they all carried either worn wooden baseball bats or rusted pipes, and they all wore gaudy golden bling, some rings and some neck-chains, albeit not as much as their leader Dimitri.

Even if the Gay Retard was somehow able to cut the ropes and in-capacitate the gopnik king, he would surely be murdered by the six other tough-looking slavs guarding him. There was no way out.

Down on the earth, the rest of the slavs were making their way down from the city. A crowd of one hundred gopniks, some male, some female, advanced upon the execution site, all whooping and hollering.

Their cries of blood lust were distorted by their distance, but they all shouted in the familiar dialect of stunted, bastardized Russian. Several soviet-era jeeps accelerated over a dirt mound and came thundering towards the bonfire. They raced round and round the pyre, creating a dirt track of churned up mud, much to the satisfaction of the gathered crowd. The jeeps each held a compliment of five warrior slavs some with gas masks, some without, dancing to the sound of 'Cheeki Breeki' which was blasting, synchronised through the ancient car radios.

Then Ian saw a sight that made his heart sink. Safari Man was being dragged across the vast expanse of irradiated earth. The slavs had forcibly dressed him in a new skimpy pink princess outfit and were maliciously kicking him into motion.

"Uwa! Pero pero pero pero pero, wow! * _Stop! Stop this! You are all delinquent retards!_ *"

Ian saw it all from high up on his cross.

"No…" he whispered, tears of frustration welling in his eyes.

"Not you Safari Guy. I don't care if they burn me, but you deserve so much better. …I'm so sorry, buddy…"

Eventually the tourist was shoved in front of Dimitri who, after taking a long drag on his cigar, blew smoke into Safari Man's face.

"So, Cyka Blyat. Have you made your choice yet? Choose me or your pyre. Be mine, or you will burn."

Dimitri chuckled at his less than subtle Disney reference and his army echoed his laughter, despite knowing nothing about 'The Hunchback of Notre dame' animated movie, originally released to theatres in 1996. It seemed that the Gopnik emperor had watched more than just porn on his VHS player.

Safari Man looked up at Ian, suspended on the wooden cross. Tears fell from his slanted eyes but he tried to keep a brave face.

"Wow! Pushi-wa doko da! * _I love you Ian. You are my best friend…_ *"

The tourist shook with fear and anger. He channelled all his energy and focused his chromosome power for one final attack. A thin white aura danced around his skin. Safari Man turned on Dimitri, who blinked with surprise. Heroic music started to play from out of nowhere.

"Safari Keek!" The tourist yelled, and he lashed his foot in the direction of Dimitri's groin. There was a dull 'smacking' sound, and when Safari Man looked down he saw that the gopnik emperor had caught his high-heeled foot in between his hands. The heroic music stopped abruptly.

"Uwa! Wow! * _Oh shit! I'm fucked!_ *"

Safari Man tried to pull his foot away, but Dimitri held it firm. The Gopnik emperor smiled, revealing several gold fillings in his teeth.

"Wrong choice, outsider" He growled.

Then Dimitri jerked towards Safari Man and thrust his hand down the tourist's pink panties. Safari Guy screamed, terrified. There was a fleshy 'ripping' sound and Dimitri tore off Safari Man's dick with one swift movement. Poor Safari Man vomited blood and fell over onto the ground, grasping his bloody pink panties.

Ian gasped, horrified. He didn't have the strength to shout back at his executioner. All he could do was cough and whisper hoarsely.

"Safari Man.. I…I'm sorry I c…couldn't save you." He said, barely able to hold his head up.

"This! This is what you get, Western Spy!" Dimitri yelled, holding the gook's cock above his head. Safari Man's dick was yellow and shrunken. It looked suspiciously like a Cumberland sausage that had been left out in the rain. Blood flowed down Dimitri's muscular arm in a glorious stream of crimson and his Slavic army cheered at the gory sight. The celebrations had only just begun.

'Cheeki Breeki' was turned up to max volume on the jeep radios, and several gas-masked slavs began dousing the bonfire with cans of gasoline.

The hard-bass beat permeated everything in the surrounding area.

'Anu-nu-nu-nu! Cheeki Breeki Iv Damke!' It blasted, electrifying the slavs into a rave crowd.

Dimitri threw his head back and laughed, then took a couple more puffs on his cigar and threw it onto the bonfire. The wooden tower ignited in an instant and orange flames whooshed into existence.

Black, acrid smoke curled up from the base of the pyre and floated high into the air.

Ian twisted around on the cross, the heat growing more and more intense. This was the end. There was no rescue coming. The Dark Lord Chin Chin had abandoned Ian and Safari Man, choosing instead to go off on some nonsensical side-quest with a sentient network server, or something like that.

Then, suddenly, there was a 'pop' noise, followed by a crackle of static. Dimitri sensed Frank's presence before he saw him. The gopnik emperor momentarily froze in spite of the great heat of the bonfire. An enormous aura of chromosome power was emanating from just behind him. Dimitri wheeled around to face the new intruder, manifesting his own crappy, green moviemaker aura in anticipation of the first attack. But no attack came. When Dimitri turned around, there was nobody there.

"W..what?" He stammered. Dimitri shouted out a warning to his followers.

"We're not alone! The Nigger-Faggot must have backup!"

The Slavs turned to look at their leader. They stared at him quizzically, having not sensed anything for themselves.

Dimitri looked around wildly. There it was again. Someone was moving around at super-speed.

"SHUT THAT FUCKING MUSIC OFF!" Dimitri shouted. Moments later, the Slav drivers complied. The jeeps came to a halt and there was silence.

There was a 'zapping' sound and a bright flash of light. Dimitri flinched, then saw that Safari Man had vanished. His bloody, limp pasty body had disappeared from where it had fallen.

"Wh..what? What the fuck is going on! Who goes there! Show yourself!" The Slav leader roared.

Then, suddenly Francis of the filth was standing in front of the roaring bonfire, his dirty blue-checked shirt blowing about in the hot wind. Safari Man was slumped on the ground by his side, barely conscious. Frank adjusted his glasses, snorted a phlegmy breath through his nose and pointed a finger at Dimitri.

"It's Filthy Frank, Motherfucker!"


End file.
